Fate Prototype: Aria of War Revelations Volume I
by NejiHyugaII
Summary: Eight years have passed since the First Holy Grail War. Now, Ayaka Sajyou, as a Master, must follow in her sister's footsteps. However, she herself does not want to accept her fate. As such, she was attacked by Lancer and stabbed in the heart...! Join Ayaka as she traverses blindly through the world of magic, searching for the one thing that her sister had wanted.
1. Epilogue: The Beginning of the End

**Hey, friends, I'm back after dying at school. Anyways, I'll be fixing up my Prototype story, so please bear with me as I make my changes. I know this is called "Epilogue" but it's slightly necessary for the story as it reveals the history of the final moments of the Third Fuyuki Holy Grail War which would lead into the Prototype universe (Yes, I am connecting the Prototype universe to the canon storyline by way of the Third Holy Grail War!). I hope you will enjoy this (slightly) revised version as much as the original.**

* * *

The Nineteen Hundred and Thirty-Fourth Year after the birth of Christ.

In this year, after many weeks of battle; of traps, assaults, ambushes, surprise attacks, and betrayals, the Heaven's Feel Ritual of Fuyuki City, Kyūshū, better known as the Holy Grail War reached the conclusion for the third time.

And, for the _last_ time.

-*Shink*

-*Clang*

-*Swoosh*

Those sounds were the vibrations put out by the last two Servants clashing weapons for one last honorable bout to end the ritual and reach the Root. The death of one more Servant was all that was required to finally open the Holy Grail. The Lesser Grail was already filled with the mana essence of the defeated. The Greater Grail only needed to be filled with its contents, and yet it was still not enough for the surviving competitors.

With six Servants, all wishes would be within one's grasp.

With _seven_ Servants, the Root of the world will be within a delicate touch.

The original hopes of Nagato Tohsaka, Zouken Makiri, and Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern would, at last, be realized.

* * *

The Servant of the Sword, Saber Major - Ivan Tsarevich, Prince of all the Rus.

The Servant of the Shield, Shielder - Galahad, Knight of the Grail.

These are the True Names of the final two Servants as they fight to the death. Only one would remain and live through the night. Below is a list of Servants that have been called upon by the wishes of their Master, fought for the wishes of their Master, and died for the wishes of their Master.

The Servant of Murder, Assassin - Hassan-i-Sabbah (of the Swift Feet).

The Servant of Spells, Caster - Väinämöinen.

The Servant of the Mount, Rider - Manfreda von Richthofen (the Red Baron).

The Servant of the Bow, Archer - Wilhelm Tell.

The Servant of the Spear, Lancer - Fionn mac Cumhaill.

The Servant of the Sword, Saber Minor - Jack Ettinsbane (the Giant-Killer).

Many Heroic Spirits great and small had perished before Saber Major and Shielder. By fate or just by sheer bad luck. A grand myriad of battles was fought and many a blood was spilled upon the streets, and in the woods, and on the beaches too.

Yet there would be another to join the ranks.

The _last_ _necessity_ required to open the way to the Root.

And that is the death of another Servant.

"Hah! Hath thou finally realized that one who fights single-handedly with a shield cannot go on the offense?"

Saber Major continued to taunt his opponent. It was one of the few alternate skills he had left to include on himself after having lost his Phantasmal Beast to Lancer, and Caster having bested his ability to call upon other woodland critters to his side.

Long and proud silvery-gold hair that dipped the tips in red. His face was cropped with facial hair that emphasized his jaw. Eyes like jade and lapis-lazuli co-mingling within his irides that never took their sights from the opponent before him.

His sword was swinging itself against the unbroken shield continuously. Never ceasing and never to rest.

"Is this what constituted for bravery in your Kingdom; hiding one's self behind a great wall and waiting for the enemy to come knocking? Your King must have been a great fool if many like minds followed his constitution."

"Speak ill not against my liege again, Saber. He was a King who none would wish but to serve beside. A Prince you may be, but a King you will never become."

Silver-haired Shielder stood in silence with his mauve eyes that couldn't help but remain relaxed even at such a crucial moment. His great and heavy shield was a mere stack of paper sheets as he swung it in defiance against the onslaught of the Self-Swinging Sword: Kladenets.

Saber Major was aware of this. Despite his sword's magic, a magic that allowed him the skill of using the will of the blade to attack at each and every opening it could conjure, Shielder would neither bend nor falter. Every blow was inhibited by the shield he took with him to battle.

This was not a fight he could win as easily as the previous.

Caster was barely worth a mention after exhausting himself against Rider and Assassin.

Lancer left the battle to play with Rider until he left his back on Saber Major only after Saber Minor had been killed by the end of his spear.

Assassin shouldn't have left his guard down.

Shielder was not just some other Servant.

He was a true warrior.

A true knight in shining armor.

Unlike Saber _himself_. Not that he wished to acknowledge such things now that his _other half_ was gone.

"It seems thus that I will have to force your submission. Come, Shielder; no more of these petty sports. Heroic Spirits need only answer with their Noble Phantasms."

He pulled from the fight and gained distance from the Servant of the Shield. His sword took on a glow as he put in the last of his mana into his blade. He was exhausted as since only a day ago, he had fought tooth and nail against the brood of Lancer's Noble Phantasm, and his Master had yet to recover much herself.

This was a do-or-die maneuver.

His last gambit, to secure him and his Master the victory that they had fought tooth and nail to obtain where many others had failed before.

His Noble Phantasm: Hoard of Hidden Magic Swords.

" **Mech . . .** "

As he began to call out its name. The white light duplicated itself.

And again.

And again.

And again, until a great magnitude of his fabled sword were erupting in the air around him. Their combined light was a supreme accumulation of his many legends and victories with that sword.

And thus, he gave life to the existence he had breathed into.

" **Kladenets!** "

He swung downwards, and so did all the apparitions. The hivemind of blades moved as one, and their attacks combined as they unleashed themselves against Shielder.

However, he was not the only Servant to possess a great miracle of their being.

From his shield, as he raised it above his own head, just as Saber had done before, he set up his counter.

His Noble Phantasm: Fortress of the Distant Utopia.

" **Lord . . . Camelot!** "

A great wall arose around the Servant as he struck his shield upon the earth. A fortress that once housed the greatest knights of their day. The most powerful fo barriers to which no evils could assault.

The keep of the King of Knights himself.

When Saber Major's attack struck against the walls, all that energy did nothing. The stone remained unscathed and the castle stood firm and proud over the swordsman. The shieldbearer who stood at the gate as the caster continued to resist.

He felt the last of his energy drain from him, as the artillery barrage of light lost itself in the night's darkness when it had no other fuel to burn.

His perished song had come at last.

The Noble Phantasms died down once all had been spent.

Shielder survived, panting after having endured such power with his own trump card.

Saber Major, did not breathe. He had no need to when he was no longer anchored to this world once the last of his Master's command over him began to splinter into nonexistence.

His tether to the world broken as his exhaustion from mana deprivation took hold of him.

He knew, deep within himself, that he had been bested.

"I see. So, this be how I encounter my final demise."

Shielder praised his fallen opponent. "You fought with great strength to have made it to the last bout. Return to the Throne of Heroes knowing that you at least survived until the final night."

"In spite of thy apparent youth, there is great wisdom behind those eyes."

"I have been told as such."

"Claim your prize. Use it well, Shielder."

Saber Major dissolved into the air. His body becoming a floating cloud of glittering light until each individual spark snuffed itself out and became one with the wind.

Invisible.

Gone.

Defeated, without regret save having lost victory within his reach.

"The Lesser Grail has been filled in its entirety. The Heaven's Feel ritual may now commence at last."

The androgynous homunculus, Midenaught von Einzbern, declared as he held the cup of his forebears' thaumaturgy between his palms. With Seven Servants now contained within it, it resonated with a glow unlike anything otherworldly. It overflowed with the purest of mana concentrations.

The Overseer, Risei Kotomine. Young and in his twenties.

Though blasphemous as it was, to be there to bear sight upon the rebirth of a miracle of their times: the Cup of Heaven reborn. What man of the cloth would dare shy away from what could only be described as the touch of God?

The last of the founders, Zouken Makiri.

Wheelchair-bound as his body decayed and withered until he was a dismembered voice within a husk. He had kept himself alive for this long only so that he may, at last, see the dream he and his friends once believed to make real.

Soon enough, he would be close to moving his conscience among a hoard of his familiars.

But first, he wished to see it with his own eyes.

The former Masters that, unfortunately, did not earn the right to take part in this miracle.

Tassaru Tohsaka, of Archer. And Ceresfleur Edelfelt, of Saber Minor.

Two enemies who in spite of their opposition, found a connection among the violence and death of the War. Even with the demise of both their Servants, what they gained over the course of their first meeting had yet to diminish.

Perhaps better to say, it had _cultivated_.

The defeated Master, Severaroia Edelfelt.

Bitter from victory having been stolen from her grasp at the final moments. However, to witness the rebirth of the Third True Magic. This was more than enough compensation, at least for her personal and contractual desires.

And of course, the victors of the Third War.

Shielder, and his Master, Myriasviel von Einzbern.

"My lady. I have won with your favor. This victory... belongs to you."

He knelt to her, as a knight does for a lady. A custom from his land of renowned chivalry, blessed by the reign of the King of Knights.

She answered without emotion, having never been born to use them as they were not a necessity to her functioning as a homunculus.

But, for her knight, she made a smile. A skill she taught herself as the slightest consideration to the Hero who fought for her side for almost half a month. Never wavering and never hinting of defiance nor betrayal.

For him alone, a smile was worth more all the gold of Heaven.

"Yes. Thank you, Shielder."

And thus the Third Holy Grail War and the entire Heaven's Feel Ritual in Fuyuki reached its final, penultimate conclusion.


	2. Preface: A History of the Fuyuki Ritual

**The following is the full text of a planned lecture written by Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, a professor of the Clock Tower in London, England in June 2001, entitled:** ** _Cup of Miracles: The Complete History of the Holy Grail_** **.**

* * *

What happened in Fuyuki was a whitewash compared to what the Tokyo Wars would bring to the Japanese nation once again. The Church to no ends put in great efforts to replicate the Holy Grail War ritual. However, in accordance with the laws of the Church, they altered it to match their own visions of Heaven's touch upon the world of mortal men.

In the First War of Fuyuki, there had been neither proper conflict nor a champion chosen from the seven mages who gathered there that evening centuries ago. The Second War was a bloodied massacre that did not survive the week, leaving the last mage standing to die at their feet, only inches from their prize. Had it not been for the unexpected summoning of a Shielder-class Servant, with the True Name of Sir Galahad, who brought the Einzbern family to final victory in the Third Holy Grail War of the Three Families, there may have been successive wars yet to be fought.

After the end of the Fuyuki Ritual, the Church put all efforts and resources into building a new ritual without the aid of the Makiri, Einzbern or Tohsaka clans, nor any of the leading magi families associated with the Clock Tower. The Church hoped that they could bring about their own true miracle for which they hoped their kind would bear witness and be blessed by God's riches and secrets.

With the unexpected aid of the Twentieth Dead Apostle Ancestor, Merem Solomon of the Burial Agency who alone understood the innermost workings of the previous Grail War sponsor and Fourth Ancestor Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, their efforts came to pass on the first evening of 1991. Unexpected, however, was the selection process from which the Masters to combat this war for the Grail; instead of bestowing the black marks of the angelic hierarchy upon the Servants of God who were present in the sights of the ritual's completion, the Grail chose seven magi as Masters once more:

The First - Seraphim: Manaka Sajyou and Saber: Arthur Pendragon.

The Second - Cherubim: Nigel Sayward and Lancer: Brynhildr.

The Third - Thrones: Shakantoku Reiroukan and Caster: Paracelsus von Hohenheim.

The Fourth - Dominion: Shizuri Isemi and Rider: Ozymandias (Ramesses II).

The Fifth - Virtues: Elsa Saijou and Archer: Arash.

The Sixth - Powers: Seiji Jinga and Assassin: Hassan-i-Sabbah (of Serenity).

The Seventh - Princes: Tatsumi Kitano and Berserker: Henry Jekyll (and Edward Hyde).

In order to rectify and maintain the authority of the Church, one of their own, Sancraid Phahn, acted as the overseer and official moderator over the coming war as they had done in the climactic war in Fuyuki almost sixty years previous. In spite of inspiring fair competition between all selected masters, it became obvious that the magus dominating the war was Manaka Sajyou, the acclaimed Master of Saber, who would later gain the allegiances of the Servants, Assassin and Caster. The defeat of the most powerful Servant, Rider, only served to prove her superior position in the war, so much to the extent that none could oppose her as she attempted the summoning of a forbidden Servant class, Beast. Had it not been on the good conscience of her own Saber who thrust his sword into her back before the ritual could be complete and giving up the last of his mana to put the awakening monster to sleep, the world may have ended there and then. And yet, the ritual fell into a slumber as it always did when there was no true winner: waiting for the next time.

For nearly eight years, the Grail hibernated, until it finally awoke once more in 1999 announcing to the world that the war was to continue once more. New champions were brought to the battlefield, and the unexpected return of the previous near-winner Manaka Sajyou brought the war to a royale of eight Master and Servant pairs:

The First - Seraphim: Manaka Sajyou and Beast: VI - Tomegatherion.

The Second - Cherubim: Misaya Reiroukan and Lancer: Sétanta (Cú Chulainn).

The Third - Thrones: Aro Isemi and Rider: Perseus.

The Fourth - Dominion: Blaise Thurraya and Caster: Melusine

The Fifth - Virtues: Daiwazura Kuratsuiama and Archer: Gilgamesh.

The Sixth - Powers: Kiritsugu Emiya and Assassin: Elizabeth Báthory.

The Seventh - Princes: Ayaka Sajyou and Saber: Arthur Pendragon.

The Eighth - Void: Sancraid Phahn and Berserker: Heracles.

The start of the ritual kicked off again with Sancraid Phahn stepping in as overseer once more, however, the war soon turned into a round-by-round battle against again, the new Master of Saber, Ayaka Sajyou, the younger sister of the previous near-winner and whom many of the competitors bore a grudge against for what had occurred. But as they came, one by one they fought blood, tooth and nail night after endless night, none with the knowledge of an Eighth Master watching them from the shadows of her own Servant and the fallen spirits of those who fought against her in the previous war.

In one such great bouts that took place over three battlefields, great revelations were uncovered as two of the greatest living legends to ever bless the ritual of Heaven's Feel were ousted as frauds to their own names;

Archer, who had presented himself as the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, himself, was, in fact, the Later King of Lagash, Gudea. Wrapping himself in the legends of Gilgamesh during his own lifetime, and even tattooing himself with the markings of which acted as a key to Gilgamesh's great vault of worldly treasures, he successfully masqueraded himself even before his own Master as the first of the Epic Cycle of Heroes of Early Antiquity.

And Saber himself, who admitted before his former and current Masters that he was not the King of Knights who led the defense of Britannia in the Dark Ages. Nothing great was attested to his name except that he was the body that was buried in her place at Glastonbury Abbey. The man who, in his lifetime, was no one special but just a boy who shared a family with the King as her nephew, Sir Galeschin. But, in spite of his non-existent legend, he will fulfill the role the Grail had granted him and act as King Arthur would in her place.

Through great trials and great perils, the Second Tokyo Holy Grail War lived to outmatch the gruesome heights already set by its immediate predecessor. Betrayals ran awry and from many sources, they swarmed the field of battle.

From friends long thought to be capable of forgiveness.

From family supposedly dead. From partnerships forged in common goals.

From trusted sponsors intended to keep their neutrality in check.

Even the bonds between Master and Servant came under a trial by fire; battered, beaten down, snapped in half, and reforged harder and stronger than it was before.

Facing his former Master once more, Saber brought Excalibur above his head without restraint and let loose his Noble Phantasm. His target, however, was not the Beast-class Servant before him, but the Grail itself which manifested behind them. The array of mana which exploded from his borrowed blade brought down such force that it split the Grail into two, destroying the ritual and ending the war for the second time. With the absence of the Grail, the Beast faded from existence, and with him followed his undead Master who finally reached the other shore after a decade of waiting. The Grail's contents spilled forth and washed away both Ayaka and Saber from the ritual site until they awoke at day's first dawn and the light of tomorrow roused them from sleep.

Despite the end of the war having been announced, Saber had not faded with Beast as he should have, instead, awakening in a living body by Ayaka's side, and both halves of the Grail within their possession. Leaving the damaged grounds of Japan's prefectures and the city of Tokyo behind them, they escaped the calamity of the Church's sight along with the Grail halves in hand, side-by-side as equals and victors unofficial.

To this day, the locations of Ayaka Sajyou and her Servant, Saber, are unknown. However, with this, the Tokyo Holy Grail War is seemingly put on hold indefinitely.

At least

. . . until the next great Providence arises.

 **Signed,**

 **Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald**


	3. Prologue: The Garden of Avalon

"Guh…"

A woman, rather young in age, was lying in a pool of blood on the floor, unconscious. What could have possibly happened to lead to this situation…?

* * *

It all started with the appearance of a man.

A man dressed in blue, carrying a large black spear in hand. He came in out of nowhere and started his assault. His reasoning was never made certain. His goal was simply to kill her, but not as to why or for whom.

The first to assault her was a pack of wolves that attacked her while she curled up on the couch. The blanket overhead was thrown off and a handful of feathers thrown towards them deterred any further actions against her. When she ran from her living room, he was waiting for her in the corridors.

Moonlight illuminating his figure. Fur, armor, and all.

"You're the lady of this house?"

His voice was smooth, but his words were vicious like a predatory hound.

"Uh- Go away!"

In a panic, she had thrown more feathers his way, but he did not flinch. Bringing across his spear, he beat them away in a single stroke. His swing was so forceful that it created an airblast powerful enough to shove her back into the other side of the corridor.

"Kuk."

Her body slams hard to the back wall as the dust created by the feathers disintegrating begins to settle. The man in blue whistles in acknowledgment as he looks to the tip of his spear. Some of her feathers were still latching onto it.

"That magic's a pretty old style," he praised. "It's kind of a waste though."

She throws another handful at him, with the knowledge that it wouldn't even slow him down. He effortlessly brushes them away with his spear. While he slaps away her useless counterattack, she does not wait for his revenge.

She runs.

She runs so far and away to the one place she believes she will be safe.

The one place she loathed and regretted ever being a part of.

Located in the far back of the garden at the edge of the estate was a greenhouse. It appeared as a greenhouse and it was accepted to be nothing more than a simple infrastructure built in purpose to cultivate botany.

However, the disguise was only half correct. Most magi hide their workshops beneath their homes or away from plain sight. Her family did the opposite. (Well, it wasn't _her_ family, per se, for she was adopted by the Reiroukan house after the end of the First Tokyo Holy Grail War, an event which took the lives of all of Ayaka's family.) For within plain sight, who would come looking for it when it was within open view.

She opened the locks. Raising her hand within a meter to the door, the vines of roses and briar unfurl themselves from the door. Red petals gracefully glide and sharp thorns smoothly slide away as the door became accessible to her.

She hesitates as her hand retreats. But she presses on and runs inside. She slams the doors shut then repeats the process of locking it again. The rose bush that had been parted now creeps back into position.

Her only line of defense against this man with a spear.

A light shines behind the tinted glass.

She turns to run but was too slow to not get caught up in the attack. Her defense is blown away by a large explosion.

"Gah!"

From the black fog, his figure emerges once more. His spear poised behind his back while his left-hand grip is all the more firm and ready to attack again at a moment's notice.

His eyes were sharper than daggers. Piercing through the smoke.

The chase had not at all been entertaining to him.

He had meant to enjoy it, yet he was more than ready to have it over and done with.

She is on the floor now, crawling backward and away on her rear end as he walks forward without any haste. Her hands are cut from the thorns that surround the ground she forces herself to move upon.

There is no escape.

There is no new attack.

There is no one left to help.

"S-save me."

She calls out softly, the words barely able to leave her throat. No one would hear her. No one was there to hear her save the man in blue. Her eyes were wide. She was about to die.

"S-save me."

She calls out again into the nonexistence. Her last hopes clinging to her salvation in whatever form would answer her. Anyone. Anything. She pleaded to the empty void that someone would answer back. Someone, would come and save her.

"S-save me . . . Father!"

A hazy image. A man dressed in silver fragments. Light features. A soft smile.

Like a dream.

Like a memory.

It was then gone.

-*Kurch*

The sound of her chest being pierced echoes in her hollow body.

The doves that took residence on the rooftop flutter away. Unconsciously, she had stood back up and was shivering on her feet, with a red spear thrust into her heart. The man in blue stands in front of her as the beating of wings starts to fade from the room.

"Hurh."

He is grunting in satisfaction. Despite having both hands on his weapon, he looks down on her figure with such boredom that it seemed like her death had been wasteful of his efforts.

She falls to her knees. The light in her eyes was dying as was her body.

She was going to die.

No one had answered her pleas for help.

No one was there to save her.

The man's spear started to slowly shift as it extracted itself out of her body. She couldn't see it, but her innards told her so.

"Huh?"

He stops in a panic. A white light emerges from the open wound. It engulfs and consumes the room in a matter of seconds. He had no time to move. The girl's body suddenly erupts with power that it should have lost. Cracks of a powerful light break across her body like an epidemic.

Then, the light was a wall. The surrounding area, including the man in blue, was forced back by a sudden wave of energy.

"Guwah!"

The man in blue was thrown back. Now, it had been his turn to be unable to react. The light grew ever more powerful as the room becomes swallowed in its presence. Not even the plants were safe from the light's wrath as they were beaten again and again from waves of wind that were carried in by the emerging light.

"Tch!"

The man in blue rolls from the floor. The look on his face as he confronts the light was that of disgust and shock. _Where had this light suddenly emerged from_? he probably wondered.

Leaves battered against his face with such force they blinded him for moments at a time. But it mattered not, as the light was the only thing he kept dead within his sights. The girl he had just "killed" was at the center of it, and yet the light was ever stronger than it should be. The wind brushes his ears like a cold front. He cannot comprehend what is going on.

She, on the other hand, does nothing as the light continues to emerge brighter and brighter from her wound. It swallows the room slowly before it suddenly encapsulates everything in sight.

She is blinded by white in an instant.

Then it passes, and she is still standing in her workshop.

The man in blue is still there, lying on the floor.

And there was now another man there too.

Her eyes opened slowly as she tried to recover from the dazzle. She saw the light on the ground that surrounded them in a circle. The man was still floating in the air before he gracefully descended and his feet touched the ground, the girl's eyes following suit. They looked up, tracing his silver fragmented legs, his chest plate, and to his face.

Petals and leaves begin to float softly down to the ground now that the wind had died. So does he. The man from the vision. The dream? The memory? It didn't matter. His graceful entrance worthy of heaven was soft and without sound. He was smiling too. Just like . . . before?

Had she never noticed how handsome he was?

"Ah?"

Wait, what?

Her cheeks flush red, yet her eyes cannot look away. That evangelical smile. The fair locks that graced his forehead still floating on air, the knightly armor in all its regal form.

"O-oh?"

No words were able to leave her mouth. He thoughts and sight completely ensnared by this personage standing before her.

Her hero. Her knight. One who had answered her, who had come to save her.

"Tch-uh!"

The man in blue growled in frustration.

"Not bad at all, Black Mage!"

He stood ferociously to his feet again. This knight that now stood before him and his prey was now to be the first to die by his spear tonight. He prepared himself for the attack.

The knight, however, turned to face his foe. Gallantly and poised, he curled his hand to his sheath and pulled forth his weapon. What was seen was nothing but a swath of invisible air, yet the force of his weapon was a strong wave of energy that even the man in blue could not face the assault.

His feet dragged through the dirt. His spear had been changed to a defensive stance, and yet he could not hold it back. He fell backward just short of the glass panes.

"Kah! K-kuk! Bastard!"

A splitting sound followed his insult.

His eyes turned to his weapon, then they widened in unbelievable surprise. A cut. A cut that became a graze. A graze that became a chip. A chip turned into a chunk that ripped out before his spear was obviously cleft in two.

His spear, split like any old piece of rotting wood. Like, it had been nothing but a toothpick. Had this been his Gáe Bolg, this small winded attack would have meant nothing. However, due to the influence of his Master's Command Spell, the now weaponless spearmen could do nothing.

The knight's face was stern and firm. He faced his opponent without prejudice except that his opponent had attempted to kill his Master. He made no movements, except to stare down the dog that had invaded her home and attack her relentlessly without explanation.

"Uh-urgh!"

The man in blue continued to clutch the two halves of his spear. The indignation of losing his personal weapon was infuriating under the heavy gaze of the newly emerged knight. Yet, he could do nothing anymore this night. He knew that.

That girl behind him. He could not reach her. Clicking his tongue, the spearman shouted, "This isn't over, Saber!" He then retreated into the night.

Standing and staring into his back, she could not do anything else but that. Her knight, she could only stare in awe at his power. She could not turn away. Her savior possessed such power that he need not attack to protect her. There was nothing more that could be said.

"Oh…!"

His face turned to meet her. Her eyes locked onto his. So soft and green they were, the light only made them more prominent. That soft gaze that stared into her soul so caringly her heart seemed to stop.

That gentle smile.

A smile meant only for her.

Just like . . . before. In that . . . dream from long ago.

The wound in her chest was still fresh and open, although it was significantly smaller than minutes earlier when she had been pierced. The drain on her body was now beginning to sink in. And so she fell, as did her conscience.

The knight cast away his sword and quickly embraced his lady before she could fall onto the ground. Together, they fell into a warm embrace.


End file.
